


Buffy and Angel Drabbles

by Pouncer



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Drabble Collection, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-14
Updated: 2009-12-14
Packaged: 2017-10-04 10:38:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pouncer/pseuds/Pouncer





	Buffy and Angel Drabbles

#### For Lalejandra, discontinued, ties, knot

"Wait, you mean they don't make this pattern anymore?" Gunn looked at the swatch of fabric in his hands with the expression of a child told that Santa Claus didn't exist.

Wesley sighed and gestured for a moment of privacy from the sales clerk. "Charles, I'm certain we can find a suitable replacement."

"But Wes! This tie _mattered_ to me. It matched my grandma's kitchen curtains."

Wesley blinked. Hunting demons was never easy. A friend could ruin his neckwear restraining the wannabe followers of a Traaykien brood from interfering with their destruction.

Time to consult the paralegal staff for suggestions.  


#### For ryf: Teatime. 187 words.

Grandmama was cross. Drusilla wandered into the corner of the room, where the little man knelt, shivering.

"Shhhh," she said, ignoring the row behind her. Daddy and Spike _would_ argue about how to escape Beijing. All Drusilla could see was the pretty, pretty flame.

"Will you taste of tea?" she asked the Boxer. "Or maybe of missionaries?" Incense and the host, consecrated proof of Christ's body on earth. It tickled like fire when swallowed, but the kind that warmed, not burned.

Drusilla wanted the thrill, and all the blood in China wouldn't sate her hunger. She drifted closer to Grandmama, whose blonde hair gleamed in the lantern light.

Darla's lips curled in a false smile. "Boys! Stop this arguing. We _will_ go forth, and we _will_ feed, and all of China shall know the terror that we sow."

Papa and Spike turned, rebellious yet meek, and Darla traced her nail down Drusilla's cheek.

"What say you, beauty?"

"Jasmine or jade?" Drusilla asked, and dreamt of the taste running across her tongue.

"Iron," Darla answered. Her fangs emerged when she smiled.

Drusilla leaned closer to sniff her passion.  


#### For callmesandy: Better than Nicotine. Buffy/Connor, 280 words.

Stephen took up cigarettes at Stanford as a way to rebel against the hippy granola culture on campus.

Once he remembered that he was Connor, he savored the burn of smoke in his lungs even more. And it gave him an excuse to loiter on corners, surveilling for unpleasantness.

Blonde hair glinted under a streetlight, the girl slight of build and vulnerable of attitude.

Connor ghosted behind her, cigarette discarded half a block back, waiting for the attack. Vampires were around every corner, and he liked the way they turned to dust.

When a leather-coated form darted forward, his senses sharpened. Before he could swoop in and save her, he saw her arm stab out and a human body turn to particles.

His physics professor would be astonished, but it was just another Saturday night in Connor's life. He really needed to give Angel a call and find out how his (other, half-known) dad was doing.

"There's more where that came from," the blonde said, challenging.

Connor considered, then replied "I'm just glad you can take care of yourself."

It got tiring, having to rescue damsels and geeks and jocks in distress.

Shadowy forms darted from the alley, and Connor danced forward.

Back to back with the girl, he prepared to defend.

"I'm Buffy," she said, just before the vampires reached them.

He blinked, and appreciated her technique with the corner of his mind that wasn't occupied with dodging fangs.

"Connor," he said, when the street was silent again. "I think you know my father."

The line of his cheek entranced him, and the power leashed in her hands made him want to purr.

More interesting than tobacco any night.  


#### For loneraven: Rascals. 151 words.

"I don't think this is fair," Dawn piped.

Anya looked at her hands, then at her chest, and screamed so loudly that Giles rushed in from the magic shop's back room.

"What on earth –" The sight that greeted him caused an immediate halt to both words and forward motion.

Xander pushed his sleeves up, then pitched backward, tangled in the jeans that had formerly fit him. Now they pooled around his feet – his tiny feet – like the attack of a fabric monster.

They were all small: Dawn, Anya, Xander, Willow, and Buffy. Giles' Slayer, reduced to a little girl in a tank top that was bigger than she was, blond hair curling around an adorable face.

It was times like these that made Giles wish he'd thrown it all over and become a roadie for the Clash. Since he hadn't, he sighed and prepared to investigate the latest Sunnydale madness.  


#### For nwhepcat: Proof. Wesley/Faith, 273 words.

He'd changed so much, but she had too. Faith didn't like to think about what she'd done to Wesley in that swanky LA apartment, but the grim expression on his face made it tough to forget.

Faith wanted to clear the air a bit. They'd worked well together, tracking Angelus down, before everyone signed on at Wolfram &amp; Hart and she began training a glut of new Slayers.

"Wesley," she said, and her fingers lingered on the fabric of the hotel room couch.

He just eyed her, and Faith knew about the freaky resurrection thing, Giles had been very clear. Maybe she could help; she had experience with returning to life and finding everything changed.

"You look older," Wesley said abruptly.

Faith's lips quirked. "Been some time, Wes.

He nodded. "I don't feel like this is real." It was abrupt. A statement.

"You know it's not a fantasy, right?" Faith wanted to help. She didn't know how.

"There's been sufficient proof," he said.

Faith moved closer. "There's proof, and then there's _proof_." She remembered walking around Sunnydale, hearing the Mayor's last message, and using his final gift to become Buffy. That was the beginning of the end, when Faith spiraled down and down and down until Angel caught her.

Angel wasn't here anymore, but Faith could try with Wesley. Atonement. Maybe some of the guilt would go away.

Wesley reached up, touched her cheek. Faith held his gaze, let him linger for however long he wanted. When he tilted his head forward, Faith met his lips with patience.

Who knew the Watcher could kiss so dirty? This might be fun instead a duty.

 

#### For Kuzibah, Five attributes from five different women that Angel would want combined in the perfect woman or man

  
1\. Blonde hair. Liam had a type long before he met Darla in that alley.

2\. Courage. Later, when he had recovered, Angel marveled at how Buffy had kissed him and then consigned him to hell. He understood. He approved. He just didn't know how she kept going, when he'd seen the devastation in her eyes.

3\. Wit. The ability to amuse was invaluable on the long slide through decades. It was just one reason Angel had kept Spike around – he annoyed yes, but he also had a refreshing way of observing the world.

4\. A distinctive smile. Faith's lips seemed made for smiling. Or for other, less innocent uses; Angel was careful not to go there, not after her descent and slow clawed journey back to sanity. Her smiles were often sharp as knives, but every so often Faith would allow an honest, unstudied reaction. Angel treasured those moments.

5\. Intelligence. It needn't be the kind of learning one gained from formal schooling. Street smarts (Anne and Gunn) could be just as valuable as years of scholarship (Wesley and Giles). Mostly, Angel found it annoying to be surrounded by people who couldn't grasp the dangers of existence, who couldn't see ways to divert and overcome that danger. Angel was a champion, sure, but he wasn't willing to fight for idiots.


End file.
